


The Snow Queen

by JET_Playin



Series: Drarry Tales [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fairy Tale Curses, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Marriage, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JET_Playin/pseuds/JET_Playin
Summary: Draco is cursed to only see the worst in everything.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarry Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653493
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	The Snow Queen

**Author's Note:**

> The second installment! Huge thanks to Triggerlil for being an excellent sounding board and thorough beta ❤️
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters

The group met in secret, certain of their cause and determined to succeed. They dressed unironically in black, for night was their only cover. Together, they plotted. 

"It is madness," one said. "Surely he must see that?" 

"He is blinded," another replied. 

"He is clearly under some spell. We must free him!" 

"I have an idea!" yet another proclaimed. "We must force the issue. Bring to light the evil with which he keeps company. Only then will he see reason!" 

A muttering rose among them as they sorted out the details, formulated a plan… 

-

Draco and Harry walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley, ignoring the dirty looks and disgruntled muttering. They were in high spirits, laughing and teasing one another as they made their way to meet with their wedding planner. With spring in full bloom, the walk was pleasant enough, aside from the people. 

Draco, in particular, was jostled more than usual, but he thought nothing of it until they were nearly to the office. A witch dressed in plain black robes glared at him, knocking her shoulder hard against his, muttering as she went. Suddenly, a sharp pain burst behind one eye and Draco halted in his tracks. 

"Ow!" he hissed. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, stopping to look at him as he rubbed at his eyes. 

"I got something in my eye," he complained, blinking rapidly. "Wait, I think— no, it's gone. I'm fine."

"You're sure?" 

"Yes. God's, when did it get so cold?" 

Harry glanced around. There was a cool breeze flowing through the alley, but he thought it was pleasant. "Maybe you're coming down with something. Let's get inside." 

Taking Draco's elbow, he led him into the shop where an animated mannequin waved from the front window, a wedding gown trailing down its wooden form, its faceless head tilting in greeting. Once inside, Draco glanced around and sniffed. 

"Why does everything involved in marriage have to be white?" 

"I don't know," Harry chuckled. "Something about innocence and virtue?" 

"It's usually too late for that," Draco snorted. 

"White wedding dresses were actually popularised by Queen Victoria in 1840," a man in a lavender paisley suit said, approaching them with a hand held out in welcome. He took Draco's sneer in stride, shaking both men's hands as he introduced himself. "I'm Aster O'Neill. No need to ask who you are, of course." 

"Yeah," Harry said with a tight smile. "We get that a lot." 

"You're here for your consultation, I presume. Why don't you come with me and we can get started."

He turned without waiting for a response and led the way to a small office in the back of the shop. When they were seated in the chairs opposite Aster’s at the desk, he pulled out a large portfolio bound in leather with sheafs of parchment spilling out of the sides. 

“So,” he began. “What are you thinking, theme-wise?”

Harry looked to Draco, unsure of how to respond. They really hadn’t put much thought into it, yet. Wasn’t that the point of hiring a wedding planner? “Well, we want to have the wedding in France, near Draco’s summer home. Maybe a beach wedding?” he asked, hoping Draco would pick up where he left off.

“A destination wedding, I love it! So, the beach; simple and elegant, or extravagant?”

“Either way is nonsense, of course,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms. “We’d get sand everywhere. ”

“That’s a good point,” Harry admitted, a bit confused. Draco loved the beaches in France, he talked about them all the time. “Maybe inside, then. A church?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter, we aren’t Muggles.”

Something was off, even Aster could tell, judging by the way he was glancing nervously between them. “Why don’t we handle some of the more universal details first. How many guests are you planning to invite?”

Harry did the mental calculations; the Weasleys, their friends from school, colleagues from work… “About two hundred, I think. Give or take.”

Draco made a disgusted sound before slumping in his chair. “Yeah, give or take the five guests on my side of the aisle.”

“Draco,” Harry said, dropping a hand to his leg. “All of the guests are your guests too, you know that. Are you okay? You sound—”

“I told you I’m fine, Potter. Maybe something’s wrong with you,” he said, turning to glare at Harry. “Why are we even doing this? The rest of the wizarding world is right, this is a bad idea.”

“What? What are you saying?” Harry asked, taken aback by the vehemence in his voice.

“Who wants tea?” Aster asked, standing quickly and heading for the door. “I’ll leave you two to discuss this matter privately. Excuse me.”

“Why are we getting married in the first place? We fight constantly, our friends hate each other. What are we going to do for the rest of our lives but make each other miserable?”

“That’s not true, Draco, any of it. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve come to my senses, and you should too.” Rising, Draco headed for the door, turning back as he pulled it open. The ice in his eyes stabbed through Harry, bringing tears rushing to the surface. “The wedding is off. I’m going to stay with Pansy until I can get my belongings from your flat.”

And he was gone, taking part of Harry with him.

-

“You should have heard him, ‘Mione,” Harry said, slumping into his favourite armchair in Ron and Hermione’s flat. “He sounded so— I don’t know, like he didn’t care anymore.”

“Draco, not care about his wedding?” she asked from where she sat opposite him, on the other side of the little coffee table. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“That’s what I thought. He shot down every suggestion we made, then stormed out saying he didn’t want to get married, anymore. What am I supposed to do?”

Hermione took a moment to pour tea for the two of them, a thoughtful frown wrinkling her brow. “I’m not sure, Harry. Perhaps it would be best to give him time to cool down before you try to talk to him again. Has he been home yet?”

Harry sighed. “No, he said he was going to stay with Pansy. Hermione, I…” He swallowed, choking back the tears that had been threatening since Draco walked out. “I love him. What if— what if he’s serious and this is the end?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry, he’s just scared. He loves you, too, everyone knows it. Just give him some space.”

Nodding, Harry accepted the teacup she offered. “And then what?” he asked.

"Just remind him of what the two of you share. It's still there somewhere, Harry."

-

By the time Draco arrived at Pansy's lush penthouse flat, he'd all but forgotten Harry and their meeting. Pansy welcomed him in, clad in long, white robes and bundled in a luxurious white fur wrap. She was beautiful, cold and sparkling; the most perfect of snowflakes. 

"What is it, darling?" she asked. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing is wrong," he assured her, warming himself in her embrace. 

Together, they moved to the sitting room. She sat and encouraged him to lay his head in her lap, as they'd done as children. "You're so cold, darling," she said, stroking his hair. "Why don't I light a fire?"

"No, I'm fine."

For two days, they sat, barely leaving the sitting room. At one point, Pansy found a puzzle she'd kept from childhood, a flat slate lined with icicles. It was charmed so that a series of taps would rearrange the icicles to form words and Draco loved it. 

"The ice is perfect," he said. "Nothing in the world is as perfect as snow and ice."

Pansy looked on as he formed every word he could think of growing more concerned with every passing hour. Draco was not himself, she thought. He didn't complain of the cold, though the temperature in her flat was lower than that of the Slytherin dungeons. In fact, he barely spoke a word. When she asked after Harry, he acted as if he'd never heard the name, if he reacted at all. 

So, when Harry arrived through her floo after three days, she descended on him within seconds. 

"Where have you been?" she hissed, following him from the receiving room as he marched through her home frantically. 

"Where is he?" Harry demanded. "I can't take this anymore. I need to talk to him."

"Good lot that will do. He's barely talking. Potter!" She grabbed at his elbow, jerking him to a halt halfway down the corridor to where Draco sat. "How could you leave him like that? He's obviously—" 

"I didn't leave him!" Harry insisted. "He left me. He called off the wedding."

"He's obviously cursed!" she cried. "He's cold as ice and doesn't seem to remember that he has a life. He hasn't been to work since he came here. I thought you'd show up sooner, where have you been?" 

Harry scowled, shuffling his feet. "I— I wanted to come straight away. Hermione said I should give him time." Which felt foolish now. 

Stepping out of the range of her icy glare, he continued down the corridor and walked slowly to Draco's side. "Draco?" he said softly, resting a hand on his arm, then snatching it away. He was freezing. "Draco, baby, what's happened?" 

Draco barely glanced at him before returning to his puzzle. "I can't seem to solve this," he said dully. "It's the only word I haven't found yet." 

"Draco, come home, please. Come talk to me."

But he didn't say anything more, simply tapped away. Unable to think of anything else to do, Harry fell to his knees at Draco's side, flung his arms around his frigid body, pressed his head against his chest, and wept. 

"I don't know what's happened, Draco, but I'm so sorry. If I did something that upset you, just tell me! I'll make it right, just talk to me!" 

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded, trying to jerk himself away. "Get off of me, you— Harry?" 

Harry chanced a glance at his face, saw tears streaming down his cheeks. "Draco?" 

"Harry, what happened? Why are you crying?" When Harry brushed a finger over his cheekbone, he started. "Why— why am I crying? What happened?" 

Harry laughed, a wet, choked sound, and wrapped Draco in his arms again. "Come home, Draco," he begged again. "We'll figure everything out, together."

The puzzle fell to the floor, unnoticed. On its surface, the icicles spelled the word "Eternity."

-

"I did not say that," Draco said when Harry told him what had happened at the wedding planner's office. "I love the beach; who cares if there's sand everywhere?" 

That's what I thought," Harry said. "But you sounded so certain."

"Well, I was obviously cursed. I barely remember being there, or at Pansy's. I'd like to file a complaint, Auror Potter," he said with a smirk. 

Harry frowned. This was serious. "Damned right you're filing a complaint," he insisted, snuggling close. "We'll do it first thing tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
